


Dreadnight

by orphan_account



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 20:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20823497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a world where giving in to their desires transforms the powerful into hideous abominations, those with power must walk the fine line between strength and savagery, lest they lose themselves.





	Dreadnight

> Emma inhaled deeply, waited ten seconds, and released it with a whoosh. As gentle as the motion was, it still set the links of her chainmail armor rustling, and the sound slithered between the trees. She bit back a curse.
> 
> Despite the fact that she had survived the brutal training, she was still merely an apprentice, and between the cost of maintaining her weapons, buying food, and the warding charms she didn't have enough for better material.
> 
> It didn't even need to be stronger, just silent. She hated the way the chains clanked against each other every time she moved. She'd nearly been killed on a previous hunt when her quarry had been alerted to her presence and charged her. The scars from that day still ached sometimes.
> 
> But she couldn't afford to throw it away; it had been a gift from her master, and the material was fairly durable and inexpensive to maintain.
> 
> Besides, on a hunt like this, she would need all the protection she could get.
> 
> It had been a long time since the Cove had suffered the presence of an Awoken, and longer still since one this powerful had attacked.
> 
> She wiped the sweat off her brow, and trudged deeper into the forest. The world was pitch black, with only the faint presence of stars cutting through the darkness. Every tree was a potential enemy, a nightmare whose twisted shape lay in wait for travelers to enter its grasp.
> 
> Her heart was beating hard enough that she was sure the creature would hear her before she even came in sight of its lair.
> 
> Shame, hot and overwhelming rushed through her. The apprentice of a mighty warrior, letting childish fears slow her bones and wear down her resolve. She was better than this. Should be better, otherwise every moment spent dripping with sweat and blood had been for nothing.
> 
> Emma slowed to a stop behind a tree. She dropped to a knee, pressing back against the wood. The feeling of having an object at her back was soothing, oddly enough. It helped her feel more present, brought her back from the ocean of doubt and terror that always threatened to drown her when she went on a hunt.
> 
> She idly rubbed her hands together. Despite her gloves, she still felt a chill running through her fingers.
> 
> Focus, dammit! She had been chosen to join the hunt for an Awoken. Even as an apprentice, she was expected to do her part in slaying the abomination, even if she was relegated to scouting.
> 
> She would do her best, and hopefully that would be enough to see tomorrow.
> 
> She had separated from her partner shortly after setting out. He had suggested it for the purpose of covering more ground and in favor of avoiding an argument, she had agreed.
> 
> Stupid. She should have insisted on staying together. It would take longer, sure, but two sets of eyes meant they were that much more likely to catch any threats, and anything could be the difference between life and death on a hunt.
> 
> Damn it. What was she still doing here?
> 
> Emma stood abruptly and moved around the tree. She didn't have time for this. Whatever doubts she had wouldn't matter if the demon killed her allies because she failed her task.
> 
> She slapped herself across the cheek. The skin stung brightly, and she focused on that pain to anchor herself to reality. Nodding, she continued into the night, noting every landmark she could see through the shadows.
> 
> With new determination, she drove through the night. One hand clamped around the handle of her dirk like a vice.
> 
> She recited a prayer in her head, seeking strength through the holy words she had been taught.
> 
> _Oh moon! Ye lady of pale death upon this plane  
Stain me with your light  
I am a sinner, clutching at the robes of the saint  
But I pray thee deem me worthy of your affection on this hollow eve  
Allow the darkness to wash off of me post haste  
And bless my blade on this hunt_
> 
> She felt the power within the verses take root, and new fire spread throughout her bones. Claws of flame and molten magma coursed in her veins, and the night almost shrunk back from her steps.
> 
> Emma smiled.
> 
> \----------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Megumi stopped at the base of a particularly thick tree, frowning.
> 
> He'd made sure his steps were silent, and he'd covered his tracks as best he could. The eyes of an Awoken cut through the deepest darkness with ease, so every hunter was taught the importance of leaving no trace of themselves behind.
> 
> That was all working fine, so what was missing here? He ran his hands across the numerous pouches that littered his waist and went around to his back. He wasn't missing any supplies either.
> 
> He paused as it hit him. He'd forgotten to salt the outskirts of the garden before he'd been called.
> 
> He could have kicked himself.
> 
> There was power in rituals, even if they were small. They created a sort of funnel in spacetime, or so he had been taught. The constant flow of energy in specific patterns, strengthened over time could provide protection against the horrors that lurked beneath the surface of the world.
> 
> And he'd fucked it up.
> 
> "Dammit dammit dammit!" He hammered the wood with his fist for each curse. His entire life he'd kept to the rituals and on what was possibly the most important night of his life, he forgot.
> 
> He inhaled sharply. Whatever, there was nothing for it now. All he could do was focus on the mission. He was almost at the end of his route, and the flare in his pocket ached to be used. It had been more expensive than he would have liked, but delayed flares were precious when it came to hunting. They gave warriors time to plan their ambush and be on the move by the time they went off, leading the more vicious targets to head towards them in hope of catching unsuspecting prey by themselves.
> 
> It would prove particularly useful against this Awoken. It was especially violent for one of its kind and would undoubtedly leap at the chance to kill.
> 
> He would try to make up for his mistake later, assuming he lived long enough.
> 
> Sparky stood up, and after checking that he hadn't damaged the tree and left any traces of himself, continued on his path.
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> She was almost there. Just one more turn and over the hill up ahead would get her back safely to camp.
> 
> A flash of red coated her shoulders and the ground around her, but she just managed to avoid turning to look. When he'd given her a flare, she had expected to have to run for her life once she set it off, probably getting caught for her trouble.
> 
> But apparently her fellow apprentice had an easier time saving his coin than she did, because he'd informed her that these were in fact, delayed flares.
> 
> Still, she hadn't expected them to be so powerful. She was far beyond the range of a normal flare's light, and yet she was still caught under their glare.
> 
> _'I guess that's why they call him Sparky.'_
> 
> His insistence on being referred to by that nickname never failed to amuse her. It was undignified and had begun as mockery for the constant explosions his concoctions resulted in, but he had never complained.
> 
> Chuckling, she climbed to the top of the hill and jumped, sliding down the smooth curvature of rock towards the base.
> 
> She tucked into a ball at the last second before hitting the flat ground, rolling once, twice, before she slowed just a fraction, and jumped to her feet.
> 
> She did her best to hold the rush of pride at successfully pulling that maneuver. She'd tried it as a child, after watching the senior apprentices training with their juniors, to no success.
> 
> Spending a week wrapped in bandages after busting her nose had been very discouraging, but the snide whispers and pointed fingers had reignited her desire to get it right.
> 
> "Are you done showing off?"
> 
> And the pride froze, coalescing into embarrassment that seeped into her bones like magma. She whirled around to see Sparky, smirking at the deluge of emotions written across her face.
> 
> "How long have you been there?" she hissed, trying to cover with anger. "We were supposed to meet back at the camp!"
> 
> He raised an eyebrow, looking honestly offended at her for asking. It made Emma want to slap him. "But we are back at camp, so what's the issue? It's not like it's my fault I had to wait after all."
> 
> When she didn't offer a response, he snickered and began walking back towards the camp, hands in his pockets.
> 
> Emma followed with a huff.
> 
> "Asshole."
> 
> "Love you too."
> 
> He ignored the strangling motions she was making at his neck.
> 
> Emma wanted to scream. Why couldn't she have gotten assigned to work with someone else?
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> "Looks like they did it. And without either of them dying too! Not bad for a apprentices don't you think?"
> 
> Colin inclined his head in agreement, his attention focused on the whetstone in one hand, and halberd in the other. The rock scraped against the blade as he dragged it across the edge repeatedly. His eyes caught every detail, from the faint row of sparks that erupted wherever the two surfaces met, to the misshapen areas of the metal, uneven and out of place before he corrected them.
> 
> "-think Colin? Colin?"
> 
> "What?" He set the stone on the table and turned to face Shawn, laying his halberd across his legs.
> 
> Shawn shook his head, exasperated. "I was saying that it's good to see the apprentices are so diligent, especially at the lower levels."
> 
> Colin's mouth curled into a frown. "What does their being junior apprentices have to do with anything?" He disliked the idea that only those of higher rank could distinguish themselves; it reminded him too strongly of his home, where people were treated as if they were an inferior product if they weren't born to status.
> 
> He saw Shawn's shoulders tense, and the other warrior opened his mouth and closed it. After a few seconds of silence, he took a breath. "No offense was meant Colin. I just meant to say I believe it speaks well of the next generation to see them working so hard."
> 
> Colin simply watched him. The man had risen to the rank of a full fledged Hunter within 2 years, a prodigious feat given his relative inexperience. There were whispers that he might leave the city some day to seek out the Guild for further training and entry into the Council of Masters.
> 
> Grudgingly, Colin had to agree with the assessment. He was strong, a quick learner, and above all, he was willing to listen to those with more experience, even if he had long surpassed them in ability.
> 
> It made him a prime source of speculation and rumor, but the man weathered it all with a relatively confident countenance, although there were traces of more pride than the senior hunter liked to see in his fellows.
> 
> Although there was little of that now. Shawn's form was still and he looked nervous. Like a mouse caught between fighting and running after being cornered. He almost snorted at the thought.
> 
> After a moment, Colin nodded and his body sagged with relief.
> 
> Colin returned to his weapon, and after a few moments staring, set it down on the table next to the whetstone. It was as sharp as it would get, and he was making an effort to avoid overpreparation from now on.
> 
> He worked his way to his feet and exited the tent, leaving with a small wave. The hunt would begin soon, and he wanted to confer with Hana before it began to make sure things were in order.
> 
> He staunchly ignored the voice insisting he was overworking himself.
> 
> Everything had to be in place before a hunt to maximize the chances of success. He had no intention of losing anyone tonight, and unless everybody was on the same page, that could very well happen.
> 
> As he passed through the camp, he acknowledged the various greetings and salutes with nods and small smiles. Around him, men and women of various ages made themselves busy. Sharpening their weapons, carrying messages between the tents across the camp, playing games to calm their nerves; he even spotted one young women juggling rocks between her hands.
> 
> Everyone was nervous, but they carried it well. They had each been trained, and he knew none of them would falter in their mission.
> 
> Eventually, he spotted Hana, sitting on a tree stump as a boy no older than thirteen stood ramrod straight in front of her, no doubt giving a report. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it didn't matter from the look of things. She nodded politely at the boy, and he bowed before spinning on a heel and jogging away.
> 
> Colin watched him for a moment, then made his way over. "Anything new?" he asked, not bothering to sit. His legs had been aching from sitting so long anyways.
> 
> Hana looked him over, eyes narrowed in amusement. No doubt she was aware of his plight. "No, thankfully enough. Sylvia's squad will be making their move soon, and everything over here is in place."
> 
> She cracked her neck. "And at this point, I'm ready to get this over with."
> 
> "Agreed."
> 
> She laughed.
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> It wanted to hurt.
> 
> The world around was far too soft. The beasts shrieked and roared until it fell upon them, their blood and viscera spilled across the ground after it attacked. The moment its new body made contact, the enemy ended up as torn meat strewn across the forest floor.
> 
> The trees were nothing but splinters that didn't remember their place. They shattered as easily as glass and it was infuriating.
> 
> It needed blood. From a real foe. Something capable of exciting it, of hurting it. Something that would remind it of the joy that arose from tearing out an enemy's throat after a long battle.
> 
> But the world was too soft.
> 
> Frustration overpowered it, and a nearby tree was shredded by a storm of metal. A snarling storm, rolling over itself and striking at everything within range, snarling all the while.
> 
> Not enough. Not enough. Not enough not enough not en-
> 
> There was a pop, and a light blazed through the air, bathing the forest below in crimson fire. What was that? An enemy?
> 
> Another plunged from the depths, burning high in the air. It had to be some kind of attack. A weapon no doubt, being set by enemies out for its life.
> 
> It snarled at the light. Whatever prey had set this weapon into play would die. It sped towards the closest light, feeling exhilaration and rage rising over it like a tide.
> 
> The desire to rip and tear was unstoppable, and its speed increased as it neared the light.
> 
> The Serrated Savagery howled, long and loud. Tonight would be a good night. Blood would be spilled, and the possibility of fighting a hunter was too promising to ignore.
> 
> Blood called.


End file.
